Wedding Bells
by heartisathome
Summary: Obligatory post-Radio City Niley oneshot. "I just thought...I thought I'd lay it all out there, give you one last chance to change your mind, and if you didn't...I'd finally stop trying."


**Well, I'm only the hundredth person to do this. All the other Wedding Bells-inspired stories I've seen have such tragic endings which, while realistic, isn't always fun to read over and over. And the great thing about fiction is that I can make it turn out however I want, so I thought it was time there was one with at least a little bit of a happy ending. I apologize for how much it probably sucks but I wrote it RIGHT after the concert was over and as a big Niley fan I wasn't exactly in the best state of mind at that point. It's also my first story published here; I thought it was a good place to start. So...enjoy.**

* * *

She shouldn't even be watching. Really, she shouldn't.

If she was watching him she'd be thinking about him, and thinking about him never leads to anything good these days. But still, these boys...they were once her best friends, her second family, her two older brothers and her very first love...

And this concert is so important to them. She has to watch.

Over and over she tells herself that's why she's watching – for them. But no matter how often she repeats it, she knows it isn't true. She's watching for herself – because she's missed them, because she wants to see them, because she wishes so very much that she was there with them, dancing and jumping around backstage instead of curled up on her living room sofa wrapped in a blanket with a container of ice cream in her lap.

It starts out as a lot of good fun. They've grown so much, all three of them – four if you count her – and she can't help smiling when she looks at those men and catches little glimpses of the boys she once knew. She doesn't allow herself to get deep enough to be saddened that she'd missed them growing up, maturing, becoming men...that she'd missed birthday parties and album releases and Broadway opening nights and, hell, even a wedding.

Nope. She doesn't go that deep.

Yes, the beginning is so much fun. They're back in their element, and they dance with mic stands and flirt with cameras and laugh for the sake of laughing, and she can tell how happy they are, and she knows that she should be happy for them too and she is, really, it's just that seeing them so happy gives her this really weird sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Almost like jealousy, maybe.

Which is ridiculous, of course, because what would she have to be jealous about? Her life is perfect. Just the way she'd wanted it.

The beginning being so lighthearted probably makes the middle even more of a shock, if that's possible. There's no warning. No lead-in. Just...bam! Like a slap across the face. And then Nick laughing, taunting, _look how easily I just turned your entire fucking life upside down._

Before he sings he gives a little speech, and she kind of knows that it's coming. She doesn't know _specifically _what is coming, just a vague feeling, _oh here it comes he's going to sing about me and make it totally obvious and will it be a good song or a bad one and should I panic now?_

And he talks and talks and this feeling that she doesn't know how to describe builds and builds inside of her, until she's sure she's about to explode, and _oh my fucking god could he be any more obvious does he know how much damage control this will take, _but also _oh my fucking god why is the little speech for this song so dramatic he can't still have feelings for me and I sure as hell can't be hoping right now that he does._

The song is called Wedding Bells.

_(Yes. Panic.)_

She breathes in deep, shovels ice cream into her mouth, gives him the benefit of the doubt. Sure, subtlety had never been Nick's specialty but even he wouldn't come right out with a song about how he feels about his engaged ex-girlfriend getting married.

Right?

Before he reaches the first chorus she's already having to manually remind herself to breathe.

He's being obvious. So obvious. And at first she's pissed – _so _pissed.

Not only did he _fucking promise _he wouldn't say a word about the wedding plans she'd mentioned to him, but what the hell did he think he was doing, coming out with this emotional shit _now, _when it's too late, too complicated, when there's nothing they can do about it?

She wishes the anger would make seeing the pain in his face hurt less, but it doesn't. At all. She remembers his face that day, his eyes deep and burning, his pitiful attempt at an oh-I'm-so-happy-for-you façade falling from his face so quickly it was as if he'd been smacked, _what do you mean you're getting married in June? Don't you remember what June is?_

As if he'd really thought she could forget. She'd cleared her throat, sipped at her drink and swallowed as if there were a million knives in her throat. She talked circles around both of them trying to explain, to justify, that June weddings are so beautiful and the weather is so perfect and it just feels like the right time, and he'd only stared right through her, blank, emotionless, and she wouldn't realize until weeks later how hard he'd been trying not to cry just yet.

He'd swallowed hard, nodded, opened his mouth and squeaked as if someone was holding a gun to his head that yes, June weddings are beautiful and the weather is nice, and it's been great talking to her but he really should go, he's running late to something but he can't remember what.

And he'd leapt up and bolted for the door before she could get a word out, wiping one eye with his sleeve, and she'd called his name and he'd turned around and looked at her with every emotion that she'd ever seen in his eyes all swirling together as one.

He swallowed again, roughly, and shook his head slightly and glanced off to one side and then back into her eyes, and as he finally spoke tears slipped down his cheeks and his voice cracked and she wished so fucking much that none of this had ever happened, _don't get married on June eleventh. Please._

She opened her mouth but he stopped her with another sharp head shake, and he was sobbing now, _it's the only thing I'm asking of you. He...he can have everything else but just...just leave that one day, that one memory, for me._

His eyes were dull, broken, and so was he. _Please._

And that was the last time they'd spoken.

So she'd known, in theory, that maybe the feelings weren't completely gone. That maybe he wasn't as happy for her as he tried so very hard to pretend that he was. But he _did _pretend, and that counted for something – that he knew it was over, that he wanted her to move on, that he wasn't counting on anything happening.

And now here he fucking is proving that all wrong.

She leans back against the couch and blows out the breath she's apparently been holding, and because it's much easier than thinking about him she thinks about herself: about the media, the fans, the public, the rumors, the awkward questions, the damage control, the inevitable fight with Liam.

What she doesn't think about is the feelings, the confusion, the pain, the anger, the wanting, the wishing, the love.

Because really she just doesn't have time for such things anymore.

There he goes, _eleven nights into June, _and now everyone knows for sure – as if they had all just assumed it was about his other ex-girlfriend who was getting married, right? – and they're both in so much trouble now and she tries so hard to not let the feelings in, to ignore how her heart skips a beat and her breathing speeds up and her palms start to sweat when she lets it sink in that this is _Nick, _and he's singing this song he wrote about _her, _and he's sad and he's hurting and he wants her to himself and he doesn't want to hear the fucking wedding bells chime, damn it, and she isn't sure if she wants to either anymore.

She's never been so confused and she throws her head back and shuts her eyes and what the hell, is she crying? "I hate you," she breathes out, to Nick or Liam or herself or maybe just the ceiling, "I hate you so fucking much."

She brings an arm up to her face and angrily swipes away the tears, and when she looks back at him on her computer screen he looks pretty close to tears himself, and the thought of him crying over her yet again is like a knife right through her heart and she doesn't know why.

He's had chances, so many chances, to change the way things are. He could've done it that last day, could've swept her up into his arms and ordered _don't marry him, marry me _instead of wiping his eyes and rushing out the door. He could've done it so many years ago, could've wrapped an arm around her and whispered in her ear _ditch blondie, run away with me _instead of biting his tongue so hard it bled and forcing the fakest smile she'd ever seen while he shook Liam's hand.

He had plenty of chances. Now he's out of them. And if he thinks he's just going to come in this late in the game and try to ruin her wedding, he's in for a big surprise.

She hardly remembers the rest of the concert and doesn't think she'd care about it much, anyway, not after this fucking song about _just one last time, _not when she'd finally been starting to get over Nick, to get used to the idea of another guy forever and ever. And she gulps loudly, sharply, because he's Nick and she can't think straight about him and because Liam isn't always all that interesting to talk to and she's seen him flirt with other girls and he's been so controlling lately and maybe she's never noticed before that forever and ever is a _really _long time.

She wonders when this became her life, just settling, signing up to spend an entire lifetime with a guy that she loves but maybe isn't really in love with, maybe not as much as she tells herself that she is. She wonders what happened to picket fences and rose gardens, to late nights under the sheets whispering plans and promises with a guy who's so sure about her he's named their kids at not even fifteen, to thinking about the future with a big, hopeful smile and not having any hint of doubt at all that everything was going to work out just fine.

Shit, she's crying again.

The concert is over and Liam will be home soon and she's holding her phone in her hands, and she types out so many angry do-you-realize-what-you've-done text messages and deletes every one, and it's a half-hour later that she finally clicks send, and pathetically the only thing she's written is _great show tonight._

She doesn't expect a quick response, she knows that he's still backstage winding down from performing, and she jumps in surprise when barely three minutes later her phone vibrates in her hand:

_Thanks._

This is so much fucking harder than she thought it would be.

She tries so hard to yell at him, to be mad at him, to tell him he's ruined everything, but she keeps remembering his face, remembering the pain there, and his voice, so miserable and beaten-down and begging _please, _and she remembers other things, too. She remembers his real, booming laugh, remembers him with his head thrown back and his eyes closed tight and not a single care in the world, remembers how she could bring it out of him so much easier than anyone else. She remembers his worn-out Converse slapping against the pavement as he strolled along beside her bike, remembers his sweet voice and the summer breeze against her face, remembers being his sunshine on a cloudy day. She remembers his warm arms wrapped around her in the middle of the night, remembers him sneaking in and out of hotel rooms and tour bus bunks like an absolute pro and sending her that heart-stopping wink over his shoulder, remembers him whispering that he can't fall asleep without holding her, that he has nightmares she won't be there when he wakes up.

She remembers his voice, and the way it cracked when he asked her if she was really, truly happy, and she remembers that they hadn't spoken in months and she remembers lying but she can't remember why, _yes, Nick, I am, _and remembers those coffee-colored eyes so dull, so lifeless, reflections of a broken heart. Remembers the watery smile and the deep breath in and the _then I'm happy for you, Miley. Really. I hope he treats you well._

And she remembers all these things and she wishes she didn't because it would be so much easier and suddenly she finds herself typing _did you mean it? _and pressing send.

Again, his reply comes quicker than expected. _Of course. I meant every word._

She licks her dry lips, taps her nails against her phone, wishes there was some kind of manual on what the hell you were supposed to say in situations like this.

_Do you STILL mean it?_

This time it takes him a moment longer, and she wonders if he's agonizing over this the way that she is. His reply is short and sweet and her breath catches in her throat:

_Yes._

And she has no fucking clue what to say or what she wants or who she wants and thank God for text messaging because she probably would have passed out already if this was happening face-to-face.

She breathes in and then out a few times. Does she really want to do this? Is she really, absolutely sure?

_Did you mean the part about us giving it one last try?_

Fuck, she's daring. Nick used to tell her she was going to get in so much trouble someday when she overstepped the wrong line, but he'd said it with such love, such teasing that she couldn't be annoyed...she knew that he, quiet and docile boy that he was, had admired it about her. Briefly she wonders if he still does, and then figures that she's about to find out.

His reply isn't what she's expecting. _Hold on._

She blinks at the phone in confusion for a moment and then nearly shrieks when it starts ringing in her hand. Oh, god. He's calling her. He wants to actually talk to her. She's going to hear his _voice. _Not the voice that she and however-many-millions of other people at just heard him use up on stage at the concert...no, his real voice, the one that comes out when he doesn't feel like he has to be careful or shy in front of fans or paparazzi or cameras, when he's just being himself.

She gulps roughly and raises her phone up to her ear, and in a voice that is nothing at all like her own she quips, "Hello?"

"That's a cruel joke, you know." His breathing is ragged, like he's just run a marathon, and he's speaking quietly – she realizes suddenly that he must be hiding somewhere backstage, having escaped his family and the crew for a moment of privacy. His tone is odd and she can't quite place it – it's kind of like anger and sadness and something else all mixed together – but something about it sounds so heartbreaking that she just wishes it was 2007 and she could run to him and kiss it better.

"W-what?" she breathes out in return, genuinely confused.

"That's a sick joke," he reiterates. "I know I upset you with the song and I'm prepared to explain myself but you don't have to play with my emotions like that, okay? Trust me, they're fucked up enough already."

She recoils in surprise, almost forgetting that he can't see her, "What? Nick, I'm being serious."

"_Stop it!"_

She almost gasps out loud and feels the fury swell up inside of her, because who the hell does he think he is,_ she's _the only one with the right to be angry right now. But something about the tone of his voice simmers her down, doesn't let her be quite so angry with him – he sounds heartbroken, lifeless, miserable, and it sinks in suddenly that he really thinks she's playing a trick on him, toying with his emotions, trying to get his hopes up so she can tear them down.

And even though he really deserves something like that after this little stunt, that's not what she's doing. She wonders for a moment how many times she had to have hurt him before he started thinking she was even malicious enough to do a thing like that, and after running through their history in her head for a moment, sadly she finds that it doesn't surprise her.

"Don't yell at me," she snaps, but not as angrily as she'd wanted to, and it's quiet for a moment before he lets out a dejected sigh on the other end of the line and breathes out, "Sorry."

"Nick..." She pauses, licks her lips, and there are so many things that need to be said but she can't make any of them come out of her mouth. "Why did you do that?" She sounds so much calmer than she'd planned to.

He's quiet for a moment and she can picture him scratching his neck, shifting from foot to foot, "I needed to get the feelings out."

She shakes her head, as if he can see her, "Not why did you write the song. I mean why did you decide to go and perform it in front of the entire fucking world." Now the anger was starting to come out.

She hears him swallow through the phone. "I thought people needed to hear it. I thought _you _needed to hear it."

She laughs sharply, coldly, humorlessly, "And you couldn't have done that in private? You had to involve everybody else? Bullshit, Nick."

"No, I couldn't have done it in private," he's raising his voice now too, "because you never gave me a chance. You ignored all my calls and you were always _too busy _when I tried to contact you. Do you know how insulting that is? I'm not an idiot, Miley. Just say you don't want to talk to me, I already know, and as if I'm too stupid to realize that your stupid ape of a boyfriend doesn't like you talking to me either –"

"_Fiancé," _she corrects, for the sake of being a bitch, "And his _name _is Liam."

"I _know _what his _fucking _name is." She's never heard such malice in his voice, not ever, and she almost thinks it should frighten her but it doesn't, because it's Nick.

They're both quiet for a long moment, just listening to each other breathe, and she wonders how two people could possibly manage to hurt each other so much, so many times...she wonders how she'd ever managed to damage him this badly, and how he'd been able to completely screw her up, too, when all they'd ever wanted to do was love each other.

"What made you think it was okay to do that?" she finally says, quietly, calmly, keeping the emotion at bay. "To do that _now? _When I'm happy, when I'm finally getting over you, when I'm _engaged to be married..."_

He sniffs suddenly, and she realizes that he's crying and the thought of that hurts her much, much more than it should.

"I wanted to give you one last chance." His voice is so small, so broken, and she thinks again about his loud, carefree laugh, about the summers he spent walking along beside her bike singing to her, about how happy he had been not all that long ago and how she had single-handedly managed to take that happiness away. "I wanted to give _us _one last chance."

She breathes in deeply, and _why did my life turn out this way _and _why can't I just sleep for a million years and not have to deal with this, _and sighs out his name, just once, and then can't think of anything else to say.

He's sniffling even more now, and she's glad she can't see his face, can't see his tear-stained cheeks and his heartbroken eyes, "I just thought...I thought I'd lay it all out there, give you one last chance to change your mind, and if you didn't...I'd finally stop trying."

She doesn't know why, but her breath hitches at his words. _So that's what this is. His last attempt._

"Go ahead," he mumbles, his voice watery and uneven, "Tell me that I wasted my time. That you aren't changing your mind."

She opens her mouth, but that's as far as she gets. She doesn't know why she can't make the words come out, _of course I'm not changing my mind, I'm in love, I'm getting married._

For a moment she wonders what exactly _changing her mind _would entail. She thinks about Nick's kisses, his strong arms around her, his soothing voice when she's had a bad day...she thinks about how loved she'd always felt with him, how even when they'd fought she'd never doubted his love for her, how she'd never once caught his eyes wandering – they were always on her, while he smiled at her, told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her.

"Tell me," he says again, sounding more in control of himself this time, and by this point she's all but hyperventilating and _fuck you and fuck Liam and fuck me, too _and_ I've never been this confused in my life_, "Tell me that you're over me. Tell me to move on. Tell me you're happy now."

He pauses, swallows, takes a deep breath in and lets it out, "Tell me to stop, and I will."

She's trying to catch her breath, to calm herself down, and he's made it so easy for her now: just one word, _stop, _and he would leave her alone, give up on her, move on, just like she's been wishing he'd do for months.

_Say it, _she coaches herself, _tell him that you're happy, tell him to stop trying, that it won't ever happen again._

"I..." she chokes out finally, but she can't get anything more out, and his shaky breath from the other end of the line hurts her way too much and _damn it, why do I always have to make him cry._

"Look, I'm sorry," he says suddenly, and she'd almost forgotten that he was the one who should have been apologizing in the first place, "I know how out of line it was for me to sing that song tonight. I just...I couldn't have lived with myself if I let you get married without ever hearing it. I'd have spent the rest of my entire life wondering if it would've changed your mind."

He stops for a moment, and then, "I know I shouldn't have done it. I know you've already given up on me...on us. This was just the last thing I needed to do before I could start to give up on us, too."

She doesn't know why the words cut through her like a knife, but they do, and she almost gasps out loud because _fuck _that hurts and she doesn't know why, and even though it's the stupidest possible thing that she could say in this moment she opens her mouth and tells him, "I haven't given up on you...on _us, _Nick. I'll never give up on us."

He gives a short, lifeless chuckle. "Funny. I never would have guessed."

Alright, she deserves that one. She thinks about what he said earlier about her ignoring his calls, and she pictures him so lonely and sad and just wanting to hear her voice after a bad day, and her ignoring him for no better reason than _he'll get the wrong idea _or _Liam will get mad _or _if I hear his voice right now I'll be right back at square one._

She thinks about the times when he'd been away on tour, when she'd needed him so much and he wasn't there, and she thinks about how much that hurt her and how she turned around and did the same exact thing to him except worse because now there was another guy to rub in his face, and _wow when did I become such a bitch._

The image pains her – him needing her, lying on his bed and clutching his phone and wishing so much that he could just talk to her, that he could have his best friend back, that they hadn't fucked everything up so badly.

"I'm sorry," she breathes out, and she really is, even though she doesn't know how _she _ended up apologizing for anything here, "I'm sorry I cut you off like that. I know we promised to stay friends. I just...I didn't think I could handle hearing your voice and your laugh and having a conversation with you without the feelings rushing back. I was selfish and I pushed you away when you needed me and I'm sorry."

It's silent for a moment and then he says quietly, "Don't be. I deserved it. I'm selfish, too...I just proved it tonight, didn't I?"

_Yes, _she thinks, but there's really no reason to make him even more upset with her than he already is so she keeps that remark to herself.

"Tell me..." she trails off and closes her eyes, breathes in deeply and tries again, "Tell me what you were hoping would happen after you sang that song tonight. Not what you _thought _would happen – what you _hoped _would happen."

He's quiet for a little while and she knows he's thinking, picking and choosing the words carefully.

"I guess..." He's calmer now, maybe done with the tears, which relieves her more than it should, "I guess if I'm being honest, I hoped you would come running back to me and say you changed your mind and you wanted to try again. I hoped the lyrics would show you how I feel and you'd realize how much I still loved you and...I...I hoped you would realize you still loved me too and break it off with him and we could try one more time and we would finally get our happily ever after."

She tries with all her might to shut up the little part of her mind that keeps screaming that that's exactly what she wants too.

"I mean, of course I wasn't expecting that to happen for real." He's defensive, almost embarrassed. "That was just, you know, my best-case scenario. Something I thought about to cheer myself up...you know, keep my heart from breaking completely."

She doesn't know what to say to that.

"Nick," she finally sighs, mustering up all the strength she has and forcing the words out: "We need to talk in person."

A long moment of silence, and then: "I can catch an early flight in the morning and be there by tomorrow afternoon."

She swallows hard, "Can you? I think...I think it would really do us both some good."

Another quiet pause, and then finally he says, "I think so too. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

_Breathe in, breathe out, _"Yeah. Goodbye, Nick."

He hesitates, and she knows there are so many words on the tip of his tongue and he can't decide what to do with them.

"Goodbye, Miley," he finally says, and they both hang up and she buries her face in her hands and then there's a car door slamming outside and Liam's home and she has no idea what the fuck she just got herself into.

The next day she's a wreck, which isn't surprising in the slightest. She got maybe one hour of sleep, tops, and she cried so much she doesn't think she even has any tears left, and of course there was the big screaming fight: what the hell did she think she was doing blabbing about the wedding to her ex-boyfriend, and what is she planning to do about this mess now, and then _what the fuck do you mean you talked to him, you're leading him on, _and _why are you crying about it now _and _oh hell no he's not coming here to talk to you, fucking call him up right now and tell him not to. _And then, finally, her finding her voice, and _when did you become my father _and _don't be so jealous, we're just going to talk _and _yes he is coming, and you don't get a say in it._

And then the worst of it, around three in the morning, _if you see him tomorrow then maybe we'll just have to call the engagement off, _and _maybe that's exactly what we should do, you asshole, _and then Liam going outside and getting in his car and her knowing she should stop him but not even trying to, and then taillights growing farther and farther away until she can't see them anymore and her sinking to the floor and crying all alone in her empty house and damn it, her life wasn't supposed to end up this way.

It's a little after one in the afternoon when the doorbell rings, and her heart stops. He'd already texted her that he'd landed, so she'd be prepared, but she didn't think she'd ever _really _be prepared to do this no matter how much warning he gave her beforehand. Liam still hadn't come home and wouldn't answer his phone – not that she'd really called very many times, truthfully she was a little too busy trying not to have a panic attack – and all day long she'd been bouncing around with worry: she worried he was off doing something stupid, worried some paparazzo would ask the wrong question and get his lights punched out and she'd end up in two scandals at once, worried that he'd finally decide to come home while Nick was there and they'd kill each other...worried that he wouldn't decide to come home at all.

What worried her most, though, was how much she _wasn't _worried. That she had no idea where her fiancé was or if he was even okay and yet she'd spent all day obsessing over another guy: wondering what to wear, wondering how much effort was acceptable to put into looking good when she saw him, wondering what the hell she was doing crying on her bedroom floor looking through old pictures and listening to him singing about how he doesn't want her to get married on repeat.

She takes a deep breath and then goes to open the door, and then there he is, so much the same and so different at the same time. In reality it had only been a few months since they'd seen each other, but it felt like years, and his hair's growing out now and he even has some stubble and his face looks older somehow, wiser, and his eyes burn into hers and he gives her his best attempt at an awkward smile and opens his mouth:

"Hi."

She all but melts into a puddle on the floor. "Hey," she breathes, and then steps aside slightly and gestures him inside. She stands completely still for a few seconds, watching him glance around her house with attempted subtlety, and _holy fuck he's really here _and _I hope the paparazzi haven't caught on yet _and _what the hell am I supposed to tell Liam _and _holy _fuck, _he's really here._

For what seems like hours they just stand there and stare at each other, because they don't know what else to do, and finally she swallows all her pride and her nerves and tells him to come sit down and leads him to the living room. He's uncomfortable, she can tell, being in this house that she shares with another man, and she sees the pain in his face and she knows it's there because of her and _why do I always have to screw everything up._

So they sit there in awkward silence, him on one far end of the couch and her on the other, and just stare at their feet for who knows how long until finally he blows a deep breath out and looks right into her eyes and says, "Miley, why am I here?"

She just blinks, raises her eyebrows, and he sighs. "I know, we need to talk, but we already did that. Why am I here if we're just gonna sit here and ignore each other? What were you wanting to hear when you told me to come here?"

His tone sounds almost mad, annoyed, but she knows that he isn't, he's just hurt by this whole thing and uncomfortable about his feelings being so out in the open and really unhappy to be sitting on this couch that she snuggles with another guy on.

She struggles to keep herself under control, because if she cries now she'll never let herself live it down, and absently she bites down on her lower lip, looking into his eyes. She blushes as they darken, jumping from her eyes to her mouth and back again, and then he quickly glances away from her, blushing himself. She almost visibly winces, _what the fuck did you just bite your lip for _and _nice fucking job, Miley, because this wasn't awkward enough, that's exactly what we needed here. Sexual tension._

"Nick," she sighs out, because both of them are going to pretend that didn't happen, "Tell me...tell me whatever it is that you want me to know."

He looks back up at her, confused, and she swallows hard, "You were right, I've been ignoring you. So this is your chance to talk, to say everything you need to and have me listen. So go ahead, talk. I wanna hear whatever you have to say."

He blinks at her, then licks his dry lips and, oh, there's that sexual tension again, "I think I already said the gist of it...last night. I don't want you to get married. I want you to give me...give _us _another chance. And I know I shouldn't feel that way and I should respect that you've moved on and I should have kept my mouth shut but I couldn't. And I'm sorry that it upset you but I don't regret doing it."

He pauses, looking straight through her, and in his deep brown eyes she sees pain and guilt and sadness, but she also sees memories and promises and happiness and young love. Sees him resting his forehead against hers, his curls tickling her face, his breath heavy against her skin, promising her forever. She shivers.

He gulps and his eyes are watery and his voice cracks, "I'm still in love with you, Miley. I know I shouldn't be but I am. And I don't...I don't know what else I can say."

She doesn't realize that she's crying until the tears start dripping from her face onto her arms, and she can tell just from looking at him that he wants so badly to reach out and wipe them away, to tell her not to cry, and she wishes more than anything that he would but they both know he won't. He can't.

"Why did you wait until now?" she asks him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you ever say anything to me before things went this far?"

By now tears are running down his face, too, "I just wanted you to be happy, Miley. I still do. I just...I thought that I needed to keep my feelings to myself, to let you move on and be happy..." He pauses, swallows, looks at her so sadly that she feels the last remaining shred of her heart breaking into pieces, "But eventually I had to think of myself too. If I didn't get this out, tell you how I feel...I don't think I ever would have been happy again. I never would have forgiven myself. And so I told myself I would just give it this one last try, and sing that song for you to hear...and if nothing happened, then I would just have to accept that it was really over. That you were happier with him than you could ever be with me and I had to let you go."

His eyes darken again, but not with lust this time – with something like dejectedness. They're almost black now, cold, unattached, like he's preparing for rejection, for pain.

"And if you are," he goes on, his voice shaking, "Then I won't bother you anymore. I'll congratulate you and tell you goodbye and then leave. I'll go back to pretending to be happy for you and we can both act like this never happened."

He's challenging her. Their eyes stay locked for a long moment, both of them holding their breath.

"Say it," he taunts, sounding more heartbroken than she's ever heard anyone sound, "Say you love him more than you loved me. Say you're happier with him than you ever were with me. Look me in the eyes and _say_ it...and you won't have to deal with me anymore."

She gulps and wipes away another batch of tears, and with her heart pounding in her ears she whispers, "Tell me what it would be like if I gave you one last chance."

His expression is odd, a mixture of so many different emotions. He seems confused that she hasn't sent him packing yet.

"I wouldn't make the same mistakes I made before," he chokes out finally. "I'd make sure you knew how loved you were. I'd tell you every chance I got how much I love you, how perfect you are, how you deserve so much more than me..." He trails off, eyes puffy and red, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I'd kiss you all the time and hold you tight all day long. I...I wouldn't keep you a secret, I wouldn't hide our relationship. I'd take you out and show you off the way I should have done in the first place. I'd never make you feel like I was ashamed of you."

She sniffs loudly, wiping her eyes roughly with the back of her hand, and she feels like she should be mortified because that's _so _unattractive, but it's Nick, and she's comfortable with him even in this very uncomfortable situation. Briefly she wonders what exactly that says about the two of them.

"I w-would always be there when you needed me. I'd make sure you never felt alone. I wouldn't go on tour without you, ever...hell, I'd never sing again if you didn't want me to. I'd do anything..."

His voice is so broken, so wistful, and she hears his wishing and his longing and maybe one last shred of hope, too, just a tiny one. At this point she's hardly breathing, and she just looks at him for a long time and he's so grown up now, a man, but at the same time he's the exact boy that she knew, that she _loved, _and she can try to convince herself otherwise all she wants but she knows she's been in love with him since she was thirteen and no matter how much she doesn't want to be, she still is.

What would be worse, she wonders: breaking off her engagement because she's still in love with her ex, or trying to ignore her feelings just to go into a loveless marriage? Wouldn't that hurt all three of them more, in the long run? Doesn't Liam deserve more, doesn't Nick deserve more...doesn't _she _deserve more?

The room is so silent she swears she can hear her own heartbeat, but her thoughts are loud, so loud she can't focus on any one of them alone...she could do it so easily, she could turn Nick away and pretend that she's perfectly happy without him and go on with her life. But then what happens? She spends the rest of her life pretending to be happier than she is? Nick has to take the knowledge that she really does still love him and then go back to being alone and miserable anyway? Liam gets trapped in an unhappy marriage with a woman who loves another man, instead of having the chance to go out and find a healthy relationship?

So that's the question now, she figures: which of the two options would be more selfish of her? Either they could all end up miserable or they could all end up happy, and it seems like it should be an obvious choice but it isn't and she doesn't know why, and _why does it all have to be so fucking complicated. _

Nick's still staring at her, waiting, and she knows she's torturing him but she's torturing herself, too. She looks into his deep brown eyes and she sees her entire past, and when she looks a little harder she thinks she sees her future, too, and she loves Liam, she loves him so much, loves him too much to take his future from him, loves him too much to keep him stuck in a loveless marriage when he could be so much happier with someone else.

She loves him too much to go on pretending she doesn't love Nick more.

She closes her eyes for a moment, _breathe in, breathe out, _and then she opens them again and in a quiet, uneven voice, says, "Say it again."

Nick blinks, confused, and she swallows sharply again, "Say that you love me."

His face is almost blank but at the same time filled with so much emotion, and he opens his mouth, "I love you, Miley. I love you so much."

She hears so very much in his voice as he says it. She hears him laughing, singing, teasing, telling her he'll love her forever. She hears him saying sorry after a fight, hears his breath loud and peaceful against her ear as he holds her while she falls asleep, hears him standing up on stage singing that after so many years he's still in love with her and he doesn't want her to get married, hears him daring her to tell him to give up on her, that she doesn't want him anymore.

She closes her eyes again and she hears wedding bells, real ones, and she hears his brothers giving speeches and him singing in her ear while they dance and she hears dogs barking and house keys jangling and babies crying and children laughing, hears late night conversations and sweet nothings against her ear and hears him telling her he loves her every single day for the rest of her life.

"Nick," she whispers finally, opening her eyes to stare deep into his, "Kiss me."

She hears his breath catch, sees his eyes widen, "Miley..." he mumbles, but she shakes her head, and orders again, _"Kiss me."_

And suddenly he's right in front of her and his warm hands are on her cheeks and his lips are on hers for the first time in years, and fireworks go off behind her eyelids and she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back, and he tastes _so good, _so perfect, and she never plans on kissing anyone else ever again. His tongue swipes across her lips and she parts them, letting him lick into her mouth, tasting him and exploring him and remembering him, remembering what it feels like to kiss with real passion and desire and _love, _and he presses his lips to hers harder still and her arms tighten around his neck, and she thinks about wedding bells and honeymoons and picket fences and rose gardens and happily ever afters, and maybe her life will turn out just fine after all.

* * *

**Ta da.**

**Now I'm going to go listen to Wedding Bells on repeat and cry. If you feel like reviewing I'd appreciate it.**


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